Foresight
by forever118
Summary: The beginning of a beautiful relationship: Quil's mind just before he meets Claire.


Their unceasing smooching; the little caresses he left down her back that made her shiver; his lips pressed down on her neck as he murmured sweet nothings of affection.

If there ever was a moment where a werewolf felt nauseous, it was now.

"Hey, show some respect for the minor," I grumbled, looking away from Sam and Emily's embrace uncomfortably. It was more than I could take: their stiflingly sweet relationship, Seth's sister phasing, Jacob's unhealthy infatuation with the traitor- I snarled at the thought of Bella. I couldn't believe I'd ever thought she was good for Jake. She was nothing to the pack now, nothing but a leech-lover.

But God, what would I give to not hear Jake's melancholy thoughts whenever we were on the prowl? He wasn't the same anymore, even when we caught the sniff of fresh leeches- moody, and sensitive; always took things too personally.

Of course, he'd always been like that, but at least back then he'd had a sense of humour. Now, it had become almost routine for him to blow up -mostly at some passing dig regarding the leech family- and storm off again, probably to sulk by the sea and brood over his so-called "best friend". I shook my head slowly, still avoiding the sight of the now passionately kissing couple across the room. Ah, the mysteries of love.

The oven timer went off with a tinkle, and Emily disentangled herself from Sam's arms to take out another batch of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Setting the tray on the counter, she eyed me thoughtfully while sinking her teeth into her creation. "You know, Quil," she began, and I sighed- I knew where this was going. "I heard from Billy that there's a new Quileute girl in town- rumour is that she's quite the looker-"

I snorted. "She tried to burn the school down a few days ago. Said the world didn't understand her soul or something like that. Now I'm not too picky, but I think that sanity was one of the requirements for a good," I struggled with the word, "Mate." Not to mention the fact that whoever had started that rumour was obviously a liar.

I shuddered at the memory of the black lanky hair and the too pale skin- her painted-on purple lips and constantly dark clothing, heavily-lined eyes averting people's stares wherever she went. Definition of psycho, fullstop.

Sam laughed heartily, getting off the sofa to relocate himself by the counter, and without waiting for him to ask Emily stuffed a muffin into his mouth. Not too miraculously, it fit. Sam munched contentedly as I struggled not to groan out loud. How much could an adolescent werewolf take before turning into a monk?

The phone rang then, startling the general peace of the room. Emily, who had somehow managed to wedge herself between Sam's arms and the counter, wiggled out and ran towards the phone. She mumbled into the phone something that sounded like hello, and gulped the remainders of her muffin down to gasp out, "Elizabeth? Is that you?"

Her tone was delighted, like she had just received the best news ever, and I cast a curious glance at Sam. He shrugged, already starting on his third muffin. I tried not to eavesdrop, but Emily's high sweet voice twisted around my radar, and I ended up hearing the conversation clear as a whistle.

"He left you for his SECRETARY?" This came with rage, the angriest I'd ever seen her. Her nostrils actually flared. There was a long pause as I heard the indistinct replies of a woman on the other end, with more than a few pauses- probably to blow her nose into a tissue. After that, Emily only nodded sympathetically from time to time, until I'd given up all hope on the other woman -Elizabeth- to ever stop talking.

Sam and I focused on the baseball game instead: The Lions vs The Bears. A few minutes later, there was a silence- Elizabeth, whoever she was, had finally run out of steam. Sam looked back from the sofa at his wife, who seemed to be contemplating something before speaking into the phone softly, "Let me check with my husband first, okay?"

Sam raised his eyebrows as Emily took a deep breath. "Honey," she said, and I recognized her charmer voice. The one that knocked Sam dead -metaphorically- every time. "Do you mind if my sister comes down to the Reservation? She's going through a rough time, and really REALLY needs a place to stay-"

"Sure, sweetheart," answered Sam immediately, his eyes foggy at the sudden sultry tone coming from Emily. I laughed to myself. Truly, Emily did not understand the depth of imprinting. She could've asked if the London Circus could stay in their house for a few months without the "voice", and Sam still would've said yes. A few repeats of "You're welcome"s and "No trouble at all"s, and Emily hung up, a clearly satisfied grin on her face.

"What was that all about?" I asked, though my eyes were still glued to the screen.

"That no-good jerk my sister married finally up and left, and she's... well, devastated, naturally, but ready to move on. She wanted to spend some time with me before getting back on her own two feet, and guess what? She's bringing along her little daughter Claire- I'll finally get a chance to get to know her...

I opened my mouth to answer, but shut it back in surprise. A tingle had passed through me at the sound of Claire's name. Sam looked at me, apparently sensing it too. A thoughtful expression entered his face. "How old is Claire, sweetheart?" he called out; Emily had already gone upstairs, where the sound of shifting furniture could be heard. There would have to be a camp bed or something like that- the Uleys didn't have any guest bedrooms.

"She's turning three in a few months, I think," floated Emily's voice. Sam looked at me quickly then with a look I couldn't understand, but dismissed the look just as quickly with a little shake of his head. I sighed, knowing better than to ask him about it. If anybody could keep a secret -while we were human-, it would be Sam. I'd just have to wait until the next time we phased. Shouldn't be too long- strange scents had begun to appear along the boundaries.

The red-head's scent, mingled with something else's. And I could only think of one way how that happened. Yuck.

Emily came down, her face beaming through the dust that now coated her face. Sam, pulled by the imprinting magnet as usual, followed her every move as she washed her face by the sink. I watched his open gawking as the drops of water dripped off Emily's chin, and officially gave up on the baseball game.

I grabbed my coat hurriedly; feeling in the very air that they were going to commit said scent-mingling activity any time soon, doubting if I wanted to be anywhere near them when all that damn energy was released.

Stupid imprinting, I grumbled inwardly on my way out. It was just a pointless movement in a pointless cycle. Moving around in circles, like a dog chasing its tail. I grinned at my metaphor. 


End file.
